


You’ll Be Dead Again Tomorrow (But in Dreams, You Live)

by LostMyHeartToHim



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies), Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Angst, But pretty fluffy at times, Canon Compliant, Dreams, Grief, M/M, Mourning, Not A Fix-It, Remix, Spock Prime feels, Spock centric, Star Trek: Generations, it's not all angst i promise
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-21
Updated: 2017-03-21
Packaged: 2018-10-08 11:38:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,375
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10385838
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LostMyHeartToHim/pseuds/LostMyHeartToHim
Summary: Kirk's "death" and everything that comes afterwards.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Re-post and thorough rewrite of an old fic. Honestly, though, there's not much left of the old version. The original is still available under the same title, so I suppose this is more like a remix of my previous work that I wasn't entirely happy with. 
> 
> I'm not a native speaker, but I think I'm pretty fluent. Feel free to point out mistakes or awkward phrasing.
> 
> Contains a very unsubtle HP reference.
> 
> Edit (04/08/2018): Some minor fixes to grammar and syntax.

Spock wakes in a room filled with golden light; arms wrapped tightly around the sleeping form of his t'hy'la. He allows himself a satisfied smile and runs his fingers through Jim's chestnut-coloured hair. Jim hums in contentment and presses harder against his chest. At the moment he greatly reminds Spock of a Terran feline.

The captain raises his face and gives him a blinding smile. It still manages to catch Spock's breath, however illogical the reaction.

"Fascinating."

"What is?" Jim asks, his voice deeper from sleep.

"Your hair has regained its original pigmentation."

A confused frown appears on the captain's (too young) face. Soon the look fades, and the all-too-familiar teasing smirk takes it place. "Is your eyesight getting worse in your old age, Mr Spock? My hair has always been this colour."

Spock frowns. Something is not right here, but he cannot grasp what that is. The thought flees his mind when Jim presses tighter around him.

Jim wraps his arms around his first officer's shoulders and pushes his face tighter into the crook of Spock's neck.

"I am sorry, Spock," he whispers, his voice slightly muffled.

Spock leans back, concerned, trying to catch a glimpse of his ashayam's face. "For what, Jim?"

Jim raises his eyes to his. The look on them is nothing like Spock has seen before.

"For leaving you."

* * *

Spock blinks awake. It's clear that something has interrupted his sleep cycle. In that period of confusion between sleep and consciousness, he does not instantly understand what has caused it.

When he does not perceive an external factor that could have woken him, he turns his attention inwards. He falls into slight meditative state and starts to probe the edges of his mind, looking for the reason for his awakening.

He furrows his brows. Something is wrong. Something is missing.

Suddenly he starts out his bed, uncharacteristically stumbling when his foot catches on the bed sheets.

His hands are trembling, but he manages to activate his comm station. His fingers fly on the keyboard, automatically bunching in a familiar number. No one answers.

Panicking, he inputs another number into the comm centre.

This time a connection forms. The look on Scotty's face is enough to confirm his worst fear.

"I'm so very sorry, Mister Spock."

His captain is dead.

* * *

It does not feel real. After all the things they had been through, something so mundane as death has taken Jim away from him. Logically, he knew that it was an inevitability. After all, a Vulcan's lifespan is proportionally much longer than that of a human's. But somehow Jim had always seemed beyond death. Jim who didn't believe in no-win scenarios, and always found a way out of whatever situation they had been thrown into.

Spock stares at the empty screen in front of him, like waiting for his captain to appear and tell him that this is all some twisted form of human humour.

The screen stays blank. Spock is filled with an illogical impulse to shatter it, to beat it with his bare fists until it breaks into millions of pieces.

Instead, he clenches his hands tightly together and falls to the floor, his shaking feet finally failing him.

Later, he goes through his possessions, looking for a small metal pendant. He knows he has put it somewhere; he just cannot recall where. When he finally finds it, he clutches it against his torso with shaking hands.

He slumps on the floor and listens to a dead man singing him a happy birthday over and over again.

* * *

(If there is any true logic to the universe, we'll end up on that bridge again someday)

There is no logic in this.

* * *

Jim is laying against his chest. His glasses are sitting crookedly on his nose, and he's holding a book above his head. Spock runs his eyes over his face and listens to his breathing. He can feel Jim's warmth burning against his stomach.

Jim glances up at him, his glasses sliding up his nose. When he sees Spock is looking back, he carefully rolls on his belly. His weight against Spock's is reassuring and familiar.

"How can this be?" Spock asks, voice filled with wonder. His shaking hands caress the side of Jim's face.

Jim lifts an eyebrow in question.

"You are dead, ashayam."

Jim smiles, but his eyes reflect only sadness. "I know," he answers, his voice quiet and apologetic.

"Have I also deceased?"

Jim shakes his head, his smile more genuine this time. "No, Spock. And neither will you be in a very long time, I hope."

Spock considers this. He runs through the options in his head disregarding them one by one. He is left with two choices. Either he is experiencing a hallucination caused by excessive grief or unknown ailment, or he is dreaming.

"Well, Mr Spock? What is your conclusion?" Jim asks, his sad smile replaced with a playful look.

Spock maps Jim's face with his eyes. He's young. The worries and grievances of their later years have not yet carved their marks on his face. The bare skin of his shoulders is golden brown and seems to be almost glowing. Spock thinks that he has never seen anything more beautiful.

"Vulcans do not dream."

Jim smiles at him in fond exasperation. They have had this argument before. "Remember, Spock, if you eliminate the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth."

* * *

At the funeral, he does not speak, simply stares at the empty casket in front of him.

The venue is filled with people. A few remaining family members, friends, old subordinates. But there are also reporters and curious bystanders. They do not belong here. Spock wants to get annoyed at their intrusion, but it is almost like Jim's death had acted as a catalyst for his Kolinarh. Nowadays all he feels is exhaustion.

Jim would have despised this, he thinks, letting his eyes roam over the crowd. Jim would have preferred a quiet funeral, with only his loved ones in attendance; not this public spectacle. But it does not matter what Jim would have wanted.

He is dead. And Spock is not.

* * *

Jim is frowning at the chessboard, concentration evident in the lines of his brow. Spock patiently waits for him to make a move.

A slow smile spreads across his captain's face, and he moves his knight. Only then does he look at Spock. "Your move, Mr Spock."

Spock does not even look at the board; his hand automatically reaches out to make his move.

"Average lifespan of a human is 130 years," he states, his voice outwardly cool as if he was just stating a fact.

Jim's smile fades, and Spock feels a twinge of regret. The captain looks at the floor, and says, his voice soft, "I know. I'm sorry."

"It is not logical to apologise for the event of your demise," Spock says, holding himself stiffly.

"I'm not apologising for that."

Spock raises an eyebrow. Jim smiles sheepishly at him.

"No really, I'm not," Jim says, pausing to look for the right words, "I'm just sorry that I could not spend the last half of my life with you."

Spock's throat feels dry.

"As am I, Jim," he croaks, unashamed of the emotion that his voice reflects.

Jim's eyes are fond when he reaches for his hand. They stay there for an unidentifiable amount of time, just looking at each other. Then the smile on Jim's face turns smug.

Spock's frown at him in confusion before he notices the direction of the captain's gaze.

Jim moves his queen.

"Checkmate," he declares and smiles at him innocently. "Are you sure you do not know what irritation is, Mr Spock?"

* * *

He finds it hard to find a purpose for himself. He feels lost; like he is somehow incomplete. Only his dreams give him relief from the oppressive loneliness that smothers him.

Once he makes the mistake of telling this to Doctor McCoy; the Doctor gives him a look full of pity in return and cautions him of the dangers of losing your sense of reality.

In his mind, Spock knows that McCoy is right, but the irrational, human part of him does not wish to let go of this final piece of Jim. To counterbalance his dream-life with Jim, he focuses his attention on working on a peace treaty between Romulans and Vulcans when he is awake. But he cannot silence the voice inside his head, that tells him that he does not belong here, in this world, not anymore.

Not without Jim.

* * *

 

When his father's health starts to decline, he visits him more often. After the death of his mother, he and Sarek had bonded over their shared grief. They are closer now than they have ever been.

Once, when in the midst of an episode, his father confessed to him the love he still holds for Amanda. Spock held his hand when he sobbed. They never talk about it again, but at that moment, Spock felt something loosen inside of himself. He is not the only Vulcan who feels this sorrow. He is not alone.

* * *

"I'm so so sorry, Spock."

"I do believe we have discussed the gratuitousness of apologising for your death."

"No, not for that, for having to put you through it again."

* * *

Spock is silent through Captain Picard's explanation of Nexus and Sonar. His Jim had died again as he had lived, as a hero.

Spock expresses his gratitude for the call and disconnects. He sits down in the chair facing the comm unit and curls his fingers against his palms.

He opens his collar and fishes out the pendant that he always wears on his chest. Spock presses the small button on the side of it and drowns himself in the voice of his t'hy'la.

(Happy birthday, Spock)

He stays there, unmoving, until dawn.

* * *

The next time Spock falls asleep, he is relieved when he finds himself in the kitchen of their shared apartment in San Fransisco. He had been afraid that the Jim that he saw in his dreams had only been a projection by the Nexus.

Still, he finds himself asking, "Why are you still here?"

Jim pauses in the middle of whisking something in a white bowl and looks at him. He sweeps aside an errant curl from his forehead with the back of his hand.

"Because you need me," he says like it is the most obvious thing in the world, and continues with his cooking.

Spock nods his head in acknowledgement, after all, it is true.

* * *

"I have no regrets," Spock tells the android.

It is said that Vulcans' never lie. But that is a falsehood in itself.

The truth is that he regrets many things. His biggest regret is that he never told Jim all the things that he should have said. He had been too busy trying to suppress his feelings that he did not realise what was more important. So he had held his feelings inside of himself for a very long time.

Too long.

Guilt is something he has felt before. But never like this. He feels guilty for not being there for Jim. For not having made peace with himself sooner. For everything he made his ashayam go trough. The most troubling aspect of the guilt he feels is that he cannot use logic to lessen it. Instead, it becomes one more set of weights on his tired shoulders.

* * *

"I have never blamed you. Not for anything," Jim tells him when Spock expresses his thoughts to him.

Spock raises a dubious eyebrow.

"I mean it." he insists. When Spock still seems disinclined to believe him, Jim climbs onto his lap and presses him against the mattress.

Spock sighs and lowers his head on a pillow. There's no arguing with his t'hy'la when he is like this.

Assured that he is listening, Jim continues with his tirade, "Yes, I was angry with you. Sometimes even furious with you. But I never blamed you for anything. I knew who you were when I fell in love with you. And I never wanted to change you. I wished that you would embrace both sides of your identity, because I saw how miserable that divide made you, but I never wanted to change who you were," Jim says, shaking his shoulder's slightly for emphasis.

Spock nods, afraid to speak. He does not think his voice would carry if he tried to. Instead, he drags Jim down against his chest and buries his head in his golden hair.

Jim runs his hands soothingly against his sides.

* * *

He continues living like this for a long time; in this half-state of living and dreaming.

Jim expresses his worry for him multiple times and encourages him to find himself a new mate. Spock refuses every time. The fires of Pon Farr have not burned him since Jim's death, so he sees no need to find a new lover. Jim just sighs and calls him stubborn.

Then comes the mission in Romulus where Spock desperately tries to stop the star from destroying the planet he has spent so many years on.

He clenches his fist around the pendant when his destruction seems inevitable, wondering if this is the moment he will be finally reunited with his t'hy'la. He has never believed in the afterlife, but if anyone could make him do it, it would be James T. Kirk.

But he doesn't die (Why, Mister Spock, you almost make me believe in miracles) and he is alone again.

* * *

Nero finds him drifting in space and deserts him on a planet covered in ice, leaving him helplessly to watch his home-planet collapse on itself.

* * *

There Spock meets him again, in a frozen-over cave on Delta Vega. For a second, he fears his heart stops. But he knows immediately that this is not the man he knew.

Putting aside the physical differences, the look on this young man's eyes is much sadder and much lonelier than his Jim's brown eyes ever held. And yet, he reaches his hand, wanting to feel that extraordinary mind once more.

After all, melding is impossible within dreams.

* * *

(Interesting. Where would you estimate we belong, Miss Keeler?)

(You? At his side, as if you've always been there and always will.)

* * *

That night they do not talk. Jim only holds him as he weeps for the loss of his people.

* * *

"Because you needed each other. I could not deprive you of the revelation of all that you could accomplish together, of a friendship that will define you both in ways you cannot yet realise."

He sees the disbelief in his young counterpart's face and desperately hopes that he will not make the same mistakes he made. He remembers well how he was at that age; so sure of the importance of logic and so desperate to prove himself to be worthy of being a Vulcan.

"Spock, in this case, do yourself a favour: Put aside logic. Do what feels right," Spock tells his younger self and wishes that someone had told him so when he was at the same age. When he had met Jim Kirk, it had been too late. Fortunately, Jim had been nothing if not stubborn.

"Since my customary farewell would appear oddly self-serving, I shall simply say..." He raises his hand in ta'al. "Good luck."

* * *

(Captain, you almost make me believe in luck)

* * *

"Playing the matchmaker, Spock?"

"Even if I did know how to produce ancient invention designed for lighting a fire I would not make it my profession."

He receives a gentle swat on his head, but his comment has the desired effect of making Jim laugh.

"You know exactly what I mean you sneaky Vulcan."

Spock wears his best 'innocent expression' as Jim calls it. His captain is not fooled in the slightest.

Jim shakes his head and smiles. "Not that I don't approve. From what you saw my alternate-self hasn't had the happiest life. And you always were good at making me happy."

Spock fidgets with his hands. "I caused you much pain as well."

Jim pecks him slightly on the lips, a grave expression on his face. "Yes, yes you did."

Spock looks down. Warm hands circle his face and force him to lift his face. Jim is smiling.

"You did, but so did I. And it was all still worth it," he says, his voice filled with the surety.

Spock pulls his t'hy'la closer and entwines their fingers in a Vulcan kiss.

* * *

The anguish and relief are evident on his young counterpart's face. Gone is the perfect emotionless Vulcan mask, like it had never existed.

"How did you do it?" the young Spock asks, his voice hoarse from tears, "How have you continued to live without him? I only lost him for a short time. You have not seen him in years."

Spock smiles at his counterpart, feeling enormous sympathy for this young version of himself. This young Spock who already has had to go through the loss of his homeworld and his mother. He is thankful that he did not lose Jim too. The way he is now, he is not sure young Spock could have borne it. He assuredly would not have.

"Have you heard of a human saying that those we lose will never actually leave us?"

"Yes, I have. Very illogical," Spock answers, though it's clear from his tone that the protestation is more of a force of habit than a genuine opinion.

This time Spock's smile contains legitimate amusement. "That may be, but over the years I have found that illogical though they are, human's can also be exceedingly wise."

"Indeed," young Spock says dubiously, "But that does not answer my question."

"I am inclined to disagree."

* * *

Spock holds Jim in his arms, breathing in his scent. "How many times do I have to lose you, ashayam?"

"I do not know, but let's hope that in this universe things won't go as they did in ours," Jim answers, his cheek pressed against his chest.

"Hope has an infinitesimal impact on reality," Spock states. They're standing so close together that he can feel the smile that curls on Jim's lips.

"No, Mr Spock, but sometimes a feeling is all that humans have to go on."

* * *

Sometimes at night, Spock wanders around his house on New Vulcan.

In the light of the two moons, he recalls every moment with perfect clarity. Every touch, every look, every word ever exchanged between them. The dreams do not help in dispelling this illusion he has created for himself.

He feels a single tear falling from his cold cheek. Others soon follow it. He does not try to stop them.

Spock looks up at the two moons shining brilliantly against the night sky. He recalls a day over one hundred years ago, when he had raised his face towards almost the same sky, having just heard his t'hy'la's thoughts from sixteen light-years away.

He closes his eyes and breathes.

* * *

(Has it occurred to you that there's a certain...inefficiency in constantly questioning me on things you've already made up your mind about?

It gives me emotional security

You're the closest to the captain in the whole universe

This simple feeling is beyond V'ger's comprehension

I have and always shall be yours

Live long and prosper

Mr Spock)

(Spock)

(Spock)

"Spock."

Spock opens his eyes. He must have nodded off during work. It has been happening with increasing frequency the older he has gotten.

Sun-tanned arms wrap around his chest. _Ah, a dream then_.

"Yes, Jim?" He feels warm breathing against his neck. Locks of brown hair tickle his cheek.

"I know this is incredibly selfish of me, and I certainly don't hope that you die anytime soon-" Jim starts, his voice cautious.

Spock turns his head a little to look into those beloved brown eyes. "But?"

The smile he receives is shy, but all the more beautiful for it.

"-But, I miss you," Jim says and pecks him high on his cheekbone.

Spock caresses the back of Jim's cheek with his fingers. "As do I."

His confession seems to take his ashayam by surprise. "After all this time?"

"Always."

* * *

(Your name is.. Jim?

Yes)

**Author's Note:**

> The title is from this poem:
> 
> I was asleep while you were dying.  
> It’s as if you slipped through some rift, a hollow  
> I make between my slumber and my waking,
> 
> the Erebus I keep you in, still trying  
> not to let go. You’ll be dead again tomorrow,  
> but in dreams, you live.
> 
> Myth by NATASHA TRETHWEY
> 
> After this fic, I swear I'm never writing from Spock's POV again. It took like three years out of my life. If he seems a bit more emotional than usual, it's because he's Spock Prime, and Spock Prime don't give a fuck.
> 
> The Android mentioned in the fic is Data from Star Trek: The Next Generation. Spock appears there in a two-parter called Unification.
> 
> Reviews are food for writer's soul <3


End file.
